Won't Go Down Without A Fight
by Laburnum Steelfang
Summary: In which we learn what happens when you carelessly mess with the protagonist in a universe which runs on Waif Fu. Warning: child molestation, psychological abuse, and bloody violence.


Spitefic with regards to fics which take characters like Mariel and suddenly render them helpless against opponents they've canonically easily defeated for the sake of shoehorning in drama.

"You're trying to deal with weighty and sensitive issue X, but you're doing it in a setting where X can't possibly play out the same way it does in real life. It leaves critics in an awkward position, because the perfectly valid arguments against X working in the setting bear an uncomfortable resemblance to arguments people use to diminish the importance of real-life X." - relativelylessimportant of Tumblr

* * *

Soaked in soapy water, Mariel ground her teeth and tried to block out the pain in her knees and paws and the uproarious laughter of the surrounding searats. The booted footpaw which had tripped her connected with her bottom and knocked her forward into the spreading puddle, and its owner whooped and let his friends slap his back and cheer.

"Clumsy little bugger!" said the searat, a vast fat creature in a coat that was still mostly red under the dirt. "Should make yer drink that up, I should!" He emptied the dregs of his wine into the pool as Mariel picked up her brush and slowly scrubbed. One of his friends, a skinny rat covered in ringworm and fleabites, cackled so hard he coughed and twitched. The other, almost as big as the ringleader but solid muscle instead of fat, eyed Mariel with a slimy grin. She knew that look meant trouble. The banquet hall was empty but for her and the three rats at this time in the morning; even if another slave came in, it wasn't like they could do anything to help.

She sighed as quietly as she could and continued to work, barely noticing as a footpaw once again contacted with her rear, gently this time. She paused briefly as she felt it tuck under the hem of her skirt and lift. This wasn't odd; searats did seem to have about the sense of humour of little lads all their lives, especially when drinking. She'd been stripped of her clothes when she was first brought to the island and forcibly dressed in a sackcloth smock, the rags of her old dress used to patch and decorate the clothes of various rats and replace worn-out cleaning cloths used by the slaves. Embarrassment meant little now... She stopped when a tail wrapped around her leg and started to squeeze.

"Well, she's no good fer cleaning. Lessee if she's better at somethin' else?"

"Aw, mate, not again," groaned the fat rat. "She's too damn young. The last one 'er age died, an' this one ain't yours! Gabool won't be pleased."

The skinny one wheezed with laughter again and said "Wot 'e don't know won't 'urt 'im. Jes' go easy on 'er or 'e'll notice."

"I know wot I'm doin', fleabag, wait yer turn." The big rat grabbed Mariel's ear and swung her to face him, pressing her face against his thigh. She coughed; he reeked, that smell of male rat which reminded her of hay and wood rotting in a dark damp spot. She was young but not naive, her father had told her everything he had thought she would need to know, and she had seen other slaves return to the sleeping quarters limping or nursing broken teeth and bringing that smell with them. Tears of shame and rage and hate welled up in her eyes as she realised what was going to happen.

"Now, liddle maid, ye'll not go speakin' of this to yer master, will ye? Good, very good. Behave now..."

* * *

Gabool, walking back upstairs from feeding his scorpion, heard the high-pitched wail of agony echoing through the fort. He broke into a run, not out of concern so much as curiosity.

Little Skiv, his personal pet, was on all fours on the floor, tears leaving streaks in the blood which soaked her from nose to waist, coughing and spitting more blood onto the red-running flagstones. One of his rats was curled up in front of her, moaning, trying and failing to stem the flow of blood between his claws. A second rat was giggling hysterically, not out of actual humour but in shock, and a third was staring at the carnage, ears flat, eyes blank, nosetip grey and dry; he looked up as Gabool entered, and said dully "She bit it off."

Gabool blinked in shock, but recovered quickly. He placed a claw on his cutlass hilt and said "And why was it 'twixt 'er teeth in the first place? Ye know damn well this one is mine."

"She _bit_ it _off!"_ the fat rat repeated.

"Heard ye the first time. And it's yer own damn fault!" Gabool addressed the bleeding rat on the floor. "Heh, never learn, do you lot? 'Member the time we 'ad the same problem wid that idjit an' his hedgehog?"

The fat rat stood up on trembling legs and wailed "Chief, _she_ _bit it off!"_

In a flash, Gabool's cutlass was drawn; with it, he belaboured the two standing rats about the heads and shoulders, shouting "Enough! Out, out, out! Don't lemme catch yer tryin' this again!" The pair fled the hall, yelling, and Mariel lay quietly in the blood pool, waiting for her punishment. Gabool returned and looked down at the injured rat, shaking his head, and laughed. His cutlass flashed, and more blood gushed, this time from the rat's throat. Gabool's attention returned to the horrified mousemaid, and he said "Give it a couple seasons and ye'll see why that was a mercy, lass. Haharr."

Mariel backed away, still on all fours, paws scrabbling on the sticky-wet floor, her tears falling faster and sobs welling up in her throat but her teeth still bared and claws tensed and ready. Gabool knelt beside her and watched her shudder as he patted her head. "That's me dear. Now, take off that dress - no, no, not like that! I mean 'cause it's goin' to rot on yer if it's left like that." Slowly and fearfully, Mariel obeyed, tail tucked up to cover herself. Gabool looked in the bucket - there was still a little water left in it. He upended it over Mariel's head, leaving her gasping and blinking soap from her eyes. "Groom up, Skiv. Don't want to smell, d'you?" It was the closest thing to a bath Mariel had had in weeks, but she wasn't in any mood to appreciate it. She obeyed, combing clotting blood from herself with her claws until she was as clean as she could reasonably get. "Better?" She wasn't, but she nodded. Mariel shrank away again and squeezed her eyes shut as Gabool removed his shirt, then opened her eyes again as she felt the silk wrap around her; it was big enough to be dress-length on her, and wrapped around her three times. He scooped her up, and she was forced to look him in the face. He was smiling.

"Wot am I goin' to do wid you, Skiv me darlin'? Ye should 'ave been born a rat, ye really should. Well, I can treat ye like one if I want. Ain't that gonna be the sweetest story? From slave to princess."

Mariel struggled, almost succeeding in sliding from his grip. "I won't! I won't let you do it, I'll kill you, I'll do what I did to him, I will..."

"I got as many bedmates as I want already, Skiv. I said princess, not queen," he said mildly, and Mariel stopped crying and fighting out of sheer surprise.

 _"What?"_

Gabool laughed again. "Not right now, o' course. That's a prize fer yer dad. Widen the gap 'twixt wot 'appens when 'e works wid me and what 'appens when 'e don't, see? He'll come around soon. Mouse dads want the _best_ fer their pups, after all."

"What are you talking about?" Mariel wondered if she'd earn yet another beating for not addressing him as "sire" or "my lord", as had happened in the past, but he seemed unconcerned with that now.

"Wot's yer name? The one yer dad gave yer."

"M-Mariel."

Gabool carried her to the window, and looked out proudly over the crashing waves. "Like I said... Mariel... sheesh, gotta give ye a proper rat name. Well, I got as many bedmates as I want, an' far more spawn, but I couldn't reckernise most of 'em, an' if I could, most of 'em can't be trusted. Searats don't usually go in fer namin' heirs, we let the strongest fight it out if there's loot to be 'ad. Looks like you, me dear, are the strongest I could find. Yer a slayer now, imagine wot ye'll be like when yer grown!" He pulled the horrified mousemaid closer and nuzzled her ear. "Doesn't every lass dream of bein' a pirate princess? Well, every rat lass does anyroad. An' the dad you got now is borin'. Ye need one like me who'll train yew up right."

Mariel shivered, and pulled the borrowed shirt tighter around herself. She couldn't help thinking, as she gazed over the sea and licked the remaining blood from her teeth, that at least she'd known how to deal with the other rat.


End file.
